


Drink In The Golden Hour

by adrift_me



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, They are insufferable and in love, post-dh1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Corvo didn't have a chance to rest for months after restoring Emily to the throne. It is on the beach, fingers deep in sand grains and sunlight kissing his face, that he relaxes. But it is not just sunlight that kisses him...





	Drink In The Golden Hour

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have written a beach kiss just a few weeks ago, but this is a prompt and I will never say no to sweet kisses. Fluff for life!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr or send me a prompt :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

It is only now, with his aching feet sinking in the sand, his hair wavering on the wind, that Corvo realises how truly tired he is. Months and months of restoring the calamity that was left by the rat plague, by Burrows and the Loyalists took a toll on Corvo’s mind and body as well as his free time. Always on guard, he stretched his muscles into pain with tenseness. Always strong, he forgot how to give time to his own troubles and pains of mind. Always with people, he made himself lonely. And the ever familiar comforting presence of his black-eyed god has also gone amiss.

Today leaving Emily to Callista’s care as well as a dozen more people is an insistence from Callista herself, who apparently can bear Corvo’s tired eyes no longer. And thus he has been shooed away to spend some time alone, trying to relax.

His heavy step brings him to the beach, and this is where he is now. It is a fine evening, the golden hour nearly at its finest. Water feels warm, but sand is already cold. Corvo sits right on it and presses his palms flat down on the grainy surface.

The wind blows, tossing his hair around.

“It is a necessity to remember about your own existence, Corvo,” the Outsider says, appearing somewhere from the side, hovering an inch above the ground just beside Corvo’s hand. Corvo looks up, squinting as sun blinds him with sharp rays. He moves to be at a better comfort and takes the Outsider’s face in, his pale marble-like profile bathed in the sunlit glory. He looks directly ahead for a moment and then down to where Corvo is sitting. Corvo’s lips tighten.

“You have not visited my shrines for a while,” he says all of a sudden, not a glimpse of disappointment or dismay on his face. Only a faint kind of longing tinting his voice and the way his head inclines tell Corvo that he is missed. His heart sinks.

He reaches up and tugs at the Outsider’s hand, prompting him to give up the act of hovering and slide down to the ground. He follows, unwillingly at first, his haughty chin turned up, but then agrees and settles next to Corvo on the ground. The black wisps of the Void withdraw, leaving only a faint dark glow.

For a while Corvo and his god sit silent, near motionless, only their little fingers touching on the sand. Corvo’s chest heaves worriedly fast, his heart beating, while the Outsider is entirely still, not a breath leaving his lungs, not a muscle moving.

Corvo takes the lead then, slowly and uncertainly, without looking, sliding his hand up and over the Outsider’s, twining his thumb under the Outsider’s index finger and caressing him softly. He slides his hand more and more and then moves himself closer to the Outsider, taking his hand fully and allowing him to wrap and arm around his waist. Corvo tries his best not to think too much of how madly his heart is pounding or how bold it feels to take a lead with a god. His seemingly fragile body is like a lively bird against Corvo’s side, warm and fidgety.

He turns his face away from the golden glory and moves all the attention to the glory of the Void, sitting beside him. Noses at the softest fringe of hair, tickling the Outsider’s temples. Corvo’s dry lips warmly touch the god’s cheek and he feels his face light up with a smile.

A smile which he names his own, a smile which he swallows off those full lips. The Outsider smiles more, his free hand grasping at Corvo’s neck for support. They drink the sunlight in a kiss, lips moving softly against each other. Corvo’s head spins and he heavily moves back to the ground, pulling the Outsider down with him, allowing him to pin him to the sand, grains catching in long hair. They pull back to look at each other, the Outsider’s eyes so very black in so much light, and smile and kiss again, this time letting tongues slip in each other’s mouths, not at all careful, not at all shy.

By the time they do pull away proper, all the drops of sunlight have been drunk, leaving the sky a black canvas full of stars, gleaming and sparkling, at least the handful of those seen in the light pollution of the city. The Outsider’s eyes are terrifying, matching the darkness of the sky. And Corvo’s heart is still beating fast, resounding enough for the two of them to feel alive.

“My dear Corvo,” the Outsider mutters, looking at Corvo with all the greatness and vastness of his deific self. Corvo feels small and yet gifted with something so wonderful as the god’s love.

He rises, holding the Outsider close, the god’s body heavy in his lap, and kisses more. He has lost count of hours. He has lost awareness of anything but the Outsider’s lips. Safe and secure in this small pocket of time, Corvo has nowhere to hurry. And so he smiles, and so does the Outsider, smug lips curled up, and the kiss is blossoming once more, bursting with light sighs and with Corvo’s heart pounding, thump, thump, a quick and erratic tune of being utterly sick in love.


End file.
